


Think But This and All is Mended

by beltainefaerie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Reunion, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:51:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, that was unexpected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think But This and All is Mended

**Author's Note:**

> Troubled_midnight has wriiten a lovely followup to this piece. Check it out when you are done here:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1837000

 

John heard Sherlock’s voice calling his name. He was there, beside the bed. In wine-colored button-up and black wool trousers, all tousled hair and flushed cheeks. He had a cut under one eye and a bruise over one cheek. Interesting. John threw back the covers, pulling Sherlock down into a crushing kiss. His fingers slipped quickly over Sherlock’s button-up, stripping him in a fevered rush. A stray button popped free and skittered across the floor in his haste.

 

Sherlock had stilled at the first touch, but now moved to efficiently unfasten John’s pyjama top. Nothing careful or slow in either of their movements. Lips and tongues moved together until they could scarcely breathe. They didn’t speak, just moved, breath ghosting over collar bones, John’s teeth grazed Sherlock’s neck. Arms twined around each other, both rapt in the hot slide of skin on skin, of exploring every inch of exposed skin with lips and tongues and teeth.

 

John’s hand splayed out on Sherlock’s chest, moving him back slightly, the warmer hue of his skin contrasted with the milky white of Sherlock’s.

 

Their eyes never strayed from one another as John flipped Sherlock over and slotted his thigh between Sherlock’s, enjoying a bit of anticipation, pressing against the growing bulge in his pants. There was something unbearably erotic about the hardness and heat through the layers of their clothing and even more so in Sherlock’s answering groan and thrust of hips They delighted in the friction for a few moments, though too soon, it wasn’t enough. Every kant of of their hips, every breathy moan seemed to be a cry for more. When he couldn’t resist any longer, John slid his pyjama bottoms down and unfastened Sherlock’s trousers. Something flitted across his consciousness, but he pushed it away.

 

He used lube from the bedside and slid his slick fingers across the puckered flesh of Sherlock’s entrance, enjoying the way he arched and moaned, pushing back against John’s finger until it was buried inside. Positively sinful, the way he writhed and whimpered until his whole body seemed to beg for it.

 

John lined himself up and pushed in a bit faster than he intended, but Sherlock encouraged it, bucking against him. The tight heat was nearly too much, even without the undulation of his hips and John pinned Sherlock beneath him, his fingers digging into Sherlock’s hips to still him. They stayed locked like that for a moment until John was ready, moving at his pace, starting slow and pushing deep and building in speed until he was driving Sherlock forward with the force of his thrusts.

 

Sherlock reached down and took himself in hand, pacing the slide of his fist in time with John’s thrusts. The surreal quality of it all was heightened by the silence around them, the only sounds their ragged breaths, the creak of the bed and their bodies moving together, until John cried out as he came with Sherlock not far behind.

 

John seemed dazed as he rolled off, collapsing onto the bed beside Sherlock.

 

 “John, that was quite” Sherlock began, but John cut him off.

  

“I didn’t wake up.” John felt suddenly cold.

 

“John?” Sherlock’s voice sounded unsure, even slightly worried.

 

“I didn’t wake up.” John stated flatly again. “I actually came. I didn’t wake up. I _always_ wake up first.”

 

Sherlock quirked a brow at him before he actually, well, it could only be described as nuzzled into John’s shoulder. “Well, you need to be asleep in order to wake up.”

 

“You’re dead. You can’t be here. And we…” John trailed off, clearly quite overwhelmed.

 

“Just shagged?” Sherlock filled in helpfully.

 

“Christ, Sherlock!”

 

“I admit it wasn’t among the most likely scenarios I had envisioned for our reunion, but it was far preferable to many. Better than any reception I imagined, actually.” Sherlock sank back against the pillows with a satisfied smile.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been posted on my tumblr with the following note:
> 
> Here is a ficlet I have been toying with. We have been talking about writing a group fic in some way for awhile and it has been attempted, but can be difficult with the way reblogs work, so here is a slightly different take. This feels unfinished and that is completely on purpose. It is where you all come in. I would love to see this added to, in a variety of different ways. Drama? Angst? Forgiveness? Melting into sugary, frothy fluff? Reblog and add your own ending. It could be as short as a sentence or as long as you'd like. Perhaps someone will even add to yours. Just be sure to leave this in place so others know what to do.
> 
> If you want to participate, you can find the post at  
> http://beltainefaerie.tumblr.com/post/70935149059/john-heard-sherlocks-voice-calling-his-name-he
> 
> or post yours here on AO3, making sure to indicate that it is a continuation of this one by checking the box "This work is a remix, a translation, or was inspired by another work"


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